I Always Win
by Story Please
Summary: Wendy is stuck at junior college in South Park.  Cartman is making her life miserable because everyone else worth tormenting has gone off to four year college.  But he's also got a proposal for her- if she accepts his terms...  Rated M for graphic sex.
1. Chapter 1

SUPER DUPER MEGA COPYRIGHT DISCLAIMER: I do not own these characters or the references to this show. If anyone asks, this story is parody and therefore does not violate copyright law.

Anyone who thinks otherwise can respectfully suck my lady-balls. ;)

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"You know you want me," the smirk was in his tone of voice.

"I'm not doing this for you," she snarled into his neck, biting him savagely enough to raise his skin in a perfect imprint of her teeth.

"You fucking hippie! You're going to give me rabies!" he reeled back, grabbing her obsidian-colored hair and making her squeak with surprise.

She laughed, her eyes sparkling with malicious glee, "You know you like it."

He hated her for being right.

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**Chapter 1**

Wendy was going to community college and she wasn't happy about it. A lot of her friends (EVEN SLUTASS BEBE) was going to a four year institution and she was stuck at home taking classes at South Park Junior College. It wasn't fucking fair. She had the grades. She had the drive. But the FAFSA people had rejected her request for financial aid because her parents made "too much." And her parents apparently DID NOT made "enough" to pay for the first two years of college in a proper university. Scholarships were a bust as well. She was practically laughed out of the high school counselor's office when she had asked for forms.

"Don't you realize we're in a recession? No wonder you're going to SPJC!" Mrs. Nally laughed, and Wendy had turned red with embarrassment and stuck up her middle finger right in Mrs. Nally's face.

"Fuck you, you stupid bitch- you'll see," she said, storming out of the office.

"Hahaha-hahahaha-just don't forget these-giggle- COMMUNITY COLLEGE forms!" Mrs. Nally was having too much fun at her expense, further giving Wendy the impression that SPJC was nothing more than a joke (which wasn't exactly too far off-there were apparently rumors that some people actually majored in "hacky sack.") Wendy put it down on her mental checklist of People to Fuck Over at a Later Date. There were too many people on that damn thing, but she never forgot. The solace of revenge was the only thing that kept her going some days.

Life was very unfair for Wendy. She lost her boyfriend to homosexuality and a football scholarship, she lost most of her friends because "oh, we have to move into the dorms three months early so we can meet our new college friends" and she was stuck in shitty South Park, living at home with her parents because "you'll save money" and goddammit, she hated it all.

To add a shit topping to her shit frosted cake, all of her general education classes this semester had fucking dumbass **Eric Cartman** in them, and he just couldn't let her live it down. He didn't have to explain how or why he was in the junior college in the first place. He just WAS, and she couldn't STAND it.

They'd both changed a lot on the outside since childhood. No, he didn't get thin, or less annoying. No she didn't get model-gorgeous or less determined in her beliefs. Real shit happens to real people, and that's how things were- Wendy accepted this.

He got tall, but he was bulky and stocky- he had even been scouted by the high school football team as a lineman due to his combined girth and underlying strength, but once he learned that he couldn't get away with dumping people in trash cans just because he was wearing a Letterman's jacket, he quickly stopped going to practice- typical fucking Cartman style. Only a very few number of people had pushed him around when he was a stupid fat kid, and ABSOLUTELY NO ONE pushed him around now that he had strength behind his outer chub. He had allowed his hair to get more into a messy shag, but largely it was due to laziness rather than any sort of style. And he never allowed it to get past the nape of his neck, "I don't want no faggy pussy hippie haircut" he would shout loudly when someone with long hair (Like Stan, for example) walked by.

She, on the other hand, had gotten to be an average height (a lot like her mother, actually) and though her breasts had grown to a nice, large D cup, it didn't mean she had some sort of flawless stomach (which really, was all she could focus on). She hated the little pouchy look that it got when she sat down and even though she rode her bike and did strength training, it just never seemed to go away. Having large breasts totally sucked in other ways, too. Not only did guys stare at them (which made her want to wear T-shirts and hoodies all the time- it freaked her out), but no clothing really ever fit her well. She didn't really like how her breasts bounced when she walked. Running was generally out-especially since Cartman lived only a couple blocks away. She remembered that time when she had finally been coaxed to go jogging with Bebe in high school and Cartman had shouted "HEY THERE ROCKET TITS" out the window at her. And so, for very good reasons, she tended to stick to a fairly conservative semi-form fitting babydoll t-shirt and some jeans.

It didn't help that every day she walked down the hall to her morning class, Cartman always seemed to be behind her making stupid comments about her ass or her boobs or her face and what he'd like to do to them. He seemed to get a really big kick out of harassing her, but then again, with most of his preferred harassment victims off at college, he didn't have that many prospects, and hell, Wendy lived down the block.

That morning, though, the morning it all began, he had done one better- he had been waiting for Wendy to walk past his house (which was the only way to get to the proper bus stop to get to school) and then "pretended" to "happen" to be on his way out and began to walk uncomfortably close to her. It was already a shitty looking day outside- the clouds were threatening rain and Wendy had to get to the bus stop quickly- she knew the bus was due to arrive soon. At first she tried to ignore him, but he kept doing this infuriating thing where he'd mutter something under his breath and then say something humiliating about her body suddenly out of nowhere and then go back to muttering again. When she felt his hot breath ('ew, Pop Tarts,' she thought) ruffling the back of her long dark hair, she couldn't take it anymore.

"WHAT THE FUCK, FATASS!" she shouted, "Are you trying to fucking stalk me or something?"

"Hey there, bitch," he replied, attempting to look nonchalant but not being able to hold back his self-important grin, "Thought you might have your panties in a bunch about something today- after all, you're stuck in community college hell" (he paused, suddenly changing his voice to an artificially high pitch) "or IS she?"

"What the hell, Cartman, I'm going to be late," she was unimpressed with his shenanigans.

"I'm just saying that," he gestured out with his hands like they were on a billboard in front of him, "Wendy Testaburger might just have a chance at the big time! ECHO ECHO ECHO!"

Her eyes narrowed, "I'm just trying to get through these two years so that I can save up and transfer as a junior so I can get my degree. I'm not buying into your schemes."

Cartman looked mock-hurt, "What, me? Scheme? No waaaaay! I'm just saying...we're not really all that different, you and I..."

"Uh, who keeps calling me a hippy and running around practically shouting 'zeig heil'?" Wendy snapped, quickening her pace. Unfortunately, Cartman's taller stature meant he had the leg strides to match and he easily caught up with her.

"Wehhhn deeeeee," the whine was right out of 4th grade, "I'm just saying that you never win. You always try to do the right thing and you always get screwed. And just look at me! I get away with fucking murder- literally! I'm just proposing a wager- something that will give you a chance to get out of this stupid town and something that will keep me entertained, because goddamn I hate being fucking bored."

She was somewhat curious about what sort of wager it could be when she shook her head to clear her thoughts- making a deal with Eric Cartman was like making a deal with, well, the devil, or whatever was worse than the devil. But it couldn't hurt to ask what she could stand to win, after all, it wasn't making her just a bit excited in the pit of her stomach thinking about the possibilities. After all, if this guy could get away with murder, it's not a far stretch to see him getting her a full ride scholarship or even...she had to ask.

They were at the bus stop, but the bus was nowhere in sight. They were alone, but even if they had been around others, Cartman had no qualms with making sure that everyone else knew what he had to say.

"What are you proposing, anyway?" she said, folding her arms, the hairs on the back of her neck standing up.

He got close to her face, his eyes meeting up directly with hers in a very unnerving way, which wasn't easy because he was a good head taller than she was, "Simple. I'm going to bet that you can't get me an 'A' in all of my classes for the rest of the semester. Mah mom is gonna get me a new car if I get a perfect 4.0 and I want that fucking car."

Wendy snorted. A fucking car? This was rich.

"Why not bother your mom to get it for you anyway?" she wasn't falling for it, after all Ms. Cartman was always buying him every single thing that her son ever wanted.

Cartman looked down, a strange energy seeming to surround him and suddenly...HE FUCKING GRABBED HER ARM, HARD.

Wendy reacted like she'd been burned and jerked back. She attempted to shake his grip, but she might as well have tried to break free from an iron shackle. She hadn't really noticed before how strong he'd gotten. He hadn't touched her directly since they had gotten into junior high school, and that was only one time when he had accidentally stumbled into her while their PE class was supposed to be running the mile. All he had said to her was, "Sorry, ho," and that was that. Her face reddened with anger at his touch.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, you fucking asshole! Let go of me immediately!" She started grabbing at his hand with her other hand, trying to uncurl his fingers as they dug deeper into her arm.

"You don't understand!" Cartman looked up with shining, faraway eyes, "I'm talking about the new Xesus 3500! It has a fucking cappuccino maker in it! And a mini fridge! Not only is it custom made so NO ONE ELSE HAS IT, but my whoring bitch mom is fucking around with the owner of the dealership and when she spreads her legs, he'll do ANYTHING for her. Now normally, I'd just think of some way to blackmail him, but this way, I get a one-of-a-kind item above board-which is rare for me-and I don't have to listen to her stupid drivel about living up to her expectations. As though she has any fucking expectations for HERSELF."

His eyes focused back on her, and he looked her directly in the eyes again, "I get what I want. I do what I want. And I want that fucking car."

He finally noticed that she was struggling against his grip and released her. She stumbled back a couple of steps, her cheeks flushed with anger and fear, tickling in the back of her throat, her stomach and (she would never admit it) even a bit between her legs. It was that primal feeling of fight or flight coursing through her veins, hitting all of her nerves in a pleasant and freaky sort of way- she wasn't sure if she wanted to run or bite him in the jugular vein or acquiesce to being grabbed roughly and...

'holyfuckdon'tthinkaboutcartmanthatwaydon'tthinkaboutcartmanthatway'-her brain kept telling her once it realized what exactly kind of train of thought her stressed out brain was getting into.

She rubbed her arm, trying to calm down and silence the rage, the fear and the utter maddening nature of knowing he was so much stronger than she was, "And what exactly do I get if I agree to this dumbass proposal?"

"Simple," he pursed his lips like a businessman, "You get a full ride scholarship to the Susan B. Anthony Lesbian Bitchhead School or whatever fucking stupid place it was you wanted to go as your first choice."

Wendy's brain went blank with shock. He must have been referring to the Susan B. Anthony University For Gifted Young Women- an all-girls university with tiny classes and educational tracks tailored to each individual student that was not only next to impossible to get into but was incredibly expensive as well. The college also assured that each student who graduated would be put into contact with the industry or career that they had majored in- a great opportunity to get into the working world after four years of study. Wendy knew firsthand about the university, she had been accepted there- her first choice- to study feminist thought and political science, but unfortunately when the money had fallen through, she had to give up all hopes of ever going (they didn't accept transfer students). But then she remembered it was Cartman. How the hell did he know that she wanted to go there anyway?

"How the hell do you think you can get me into *that* school?" she said skeptically.

"Oh, I know some people," he turned his eyes up, speaking in that annoyingly smug voice that told her that there was a story that likely involved blackmail, torture and probably some black market KFC as well.

"Well, I'd need proof that you could even *do* that," Wendy's voice quavered a little, tempted as all hell, "Then again, what exactly would I have to do if I lost?"

"Wendy, do you know what happens when a new male lion takes over the pride?"

"What?" she was taken aback at the seemingly unrelated question.

"I said, do you know what happens?"

"No, what?" she said cautiously, knowing that she was probably walking into a trap.

"The male takes the liberty of killing off any of the cubs from the previous king and do you know what happens?"

Wendy didn't like where this was going. "And?"

"So the lionesses immediately go into heat. The male can then feel free to impregnate them, create his own heirs, pass on his genetics, and rule his pride with..well..pride."

"What the hell does this have to do with this hypothetical bet?" Wendy was practically shouting, looking down the street wondering where the fuck the bus was anyway.

"So, if you lose," he smiled like he was talking about rainbows and sunshine, "We get to play lions. You become mine...forever, whether you want to or not."

"Fuck you, Eric!" Wendy used his first name for emphasis on how weirded out she felt about this whole situation.

"Hmmm, you just might be right, but hey, wouldn't you like to know if you can get into Bitch University with a full ride scholarship? Aren't you willing to put something important on the line- such as yourself?" The smile got larger, like a Cheshire cat.

She was starting to wonder if he was just screwing with her and this was all just some kind of fake bullshit joke anyway. So instead she tried a different tactic, one she hoped would stop the thread of unease and butterflies from encircling her stomach more tightly.

"Well, this is a stupid fucking idea, but even if I *did* want to help you, I can't exactly enter in a binding contract anyway, seeing as I'm still only 17," she replied, snapping at him and his stupid smug grin.

"Oh, yes, I know all about that, Wendy- you do know that we've gone to school for, like...what, all our lives?" He was talking in that quiet, somewhat conspiratorial voice that he often used when he was scheming and she knew that he'd already thought about this particular loophole.

"I happen to know that you turn 18 in three weeks, Testies-burger," he said, his voice becoming snarky and self-important, "So how about we revisit this little...proposition...at that time. You either say yes or no, and either way, the decision is final, slut-face."

"I am not a slut!" Wendy cried, closing her eyes in frustration, "Fucking hell, I've never even-" she cut herself off realizing to whom she was about to tell her virginity status.

He smiled, but not in a good way, "Oh reeeeeally..." he replied, his eyes leering at her body, "That's even better..."

She blushed and backed away, hoping not to catch his gaze for fear of seeing horrible torturous god-knows-what flashing in front of his eyes. Luckily for Wendy, she noticed that the bus was almost there-and she breathed a sign of relief. "Whatever, Cartman, I still have three weeks. Just don't fucking rush me. And hell, maybe I'll ask for a few extras to sweeten the deal for myself. Lord knows that even if you lose you're going to win."

Cartman looked at her pointedly and what he said made her blood run cold- just like he had looked into her heart and knew she'd already decided, "I *always* get what I want."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Wendy had expected Cartmen to ramp up on bothering her in the weeks that followed the bus stop incident, but he stayed surprisingly subdued. Sure, he made a couple cracks about her body if he happened to be near her before class, but otherwise, he made no attempt to directly contact her. Instead, she was left with her own inner doubts, fears and hopes, stewing up a perfect storm in her psyche.

"It would be awesome to go to that university- on a full ride scholarship, no less!" the little angel on her left shoulder whispered.

"Oh yeah, but who wants to play 'lions' with big old hulking Cartman?" leered the shoulder demon sitting on her right, smoking some kind of ethereal cigarette, wearing a pleated mini skirt and flashing her panties at the angel out of spite.

"Now, now, she's not guaranteed to lose," the angel retorted sitting up indignantly with her floor length gown draped gracefully around her, "And she honestly did get into the school that he's hoping to get her into."

"Oh, yeah, and you think *I'm* the demon here," the demon scoffed, flicking bits of ash from the cigarette in the angel's face, "You totally know that Cartman's not up to any good and he probably hurt a lot of people to pull the strings to get that scholarship, if he even ever did. Have you ever considered that maybe he's AIMING to win?"

"Why do you always think the worst of others," the angel shouted in an uncharacteristically loud voice, "You're just a big old ruffian and if I had my way, I'd..."

"Oh stop right there, bubsy-kins," the demon rolled her eyes, "Don't even think that you're some kind of bed of roses to deal with either, why just the other day I-"

"WOULD YOU TWO PLEASE SHUT UP!" Wendy shouted, and both of them simultaneously fell off her shoulders and began both pouting and floating in midair in front of her.

"You don't have to shout," the demon said.

"Seriously," the angel agreed, "We're right here, you know."

"Listen," Wendy addressed them both, "I know you're both trying to help, and I know that this is part of the whole South Park weird-shit-that-never-happens-anywhere-else-for-some-reason thing, but seriously, you guys are just making it worse. So please, whatever it is that I have to say to get you guys off my back, I just need some time alone to think."

"That's good enough," they both said simultaneously, and vanished.

Wendy walked her bike out of the junior college's bike rack and hopped on it. It was a good, brisk fall day for a ride. The somewhat cool breeze hinted at a cold winter coming, but for the moment, it was still a great time to get out and move. She wrapped a scarf around her neck to fight against the wind chill factor and pushed off, pedaling through town with her earbuds blasting her favorite music- mostly techno and electronica to keep up with the frenzied pace of her legs. When she was bicycling, she was _free_. Nothing could touch her, no one could stop her, and she could move so much more quickly than when she was walking along with her short legs.

She felt a twinge in her stomach remembering just how easily Cartman had caught up to her. If he wanted to...he...

She shook her head, 'Can't think about that,' she reassured herself, pulling from her angry place- the swirling torrent of fiery rage that gave her so much strength on a regular basis.

Yeah, the anger felt good-comfortable like an old sweater- painting her cheeks red with fire and fury. She'd show stupid Cartman that she could play his game and win. She'd show him! And she'd laugh her ass off all the way to...how did he put it?..."Lesbian Bitch School!"

This was her only option. After all, it's always possible that her last two years of college funding would fall through too. She'd be stuck in South Park taking over for Mr. Garrison or working at some godawful retail store. God, the thought was more depressing than being Cartman's slave. She still felt shitty about accepting his terms, but she knew that there was no other way out of her situation, barring divine intervention.

"But wouldn't you know it," she muttered to herself above the noise of the beatbox in her ears, "It seems like Jesus only hangs out with dudes."

And unfortunately, her closest "dude" friends were off at college, probably making out with each other or something. She winced, feeling the betrayal all over again, that raw patch of broken heart when she learned it was all a lie, that she was just this shield against bigotry and hatred of all the homophobia from school. That she didn't matter as a person...as a woman...

The last part really stung. Wendy's heart of hearts knew that no one had ever really loved her, desired her, pursued her because they actually wanted her, and the pain of that was more than she could reasonably allow herself to feel.

She steeled herself against the painful memories. Things would change when she won that bet. She was sure of it. It was an ugly ray of hope in her otherwise hopeless situation, and she didn't want to give up. Not yet. Because honestly, there were all sorts of permanent solutions, far more permanent than giving her life to Eric Cartman.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Wendy returned home, her thoughts finally getting collected and she knew she had to devise a plan of action- specifics to keep that slimy Cartman from reneging on his deal. But first, she had to take a shower- she was pretty sweaty from riding around all afternoon.

She slipped off her shirt, making a displeased noise when she noticed that the underwire of her bra was digging into her right breast again. She hoped that they were just swelling for her period or something and she wouldn't have to go and buy bigger bras. It sucked to go into a store and see all the cute small bras but know that the only ones she could get were the "over the shoulder boulder holders." She knew that if *she* made bras for bigger breasted ladies that she would make sure they were cute and flirty, not simply functional.

'Hmm, but then what would Cartman say if...' she stopped herself, 'What the heck? I couldn't be thinking about that horrible guy right now, especially NOT when I'm standing around in my underwear!'

She turned her attention to the mirror and grabbed her stomach, pinching it. She couldn't understand why she still had this little roll even after all those sit ups. She resolved to continue her regimen and maybe add a couple more reps. In the mirror, she checked her small mole on the side of her left breast, not really sure if it was cute or ugly- she wasn't really a freckled person, but she did have a couple little dark marks on her thighs and her upper arms as well as this small black dot right on the side of the breast itself.

She finally removed her bra and grabbed her breasts with her hands, holding them up like she imagined a girl with a boob job would be able to manage hands-free- defying gravity all the while standing on her toes, elongating her torso so her stomach looked less fat. It was a ritual she always did both before and after a shower- try and make herself look as good as possible so she could keep that mental image in her head. But she knew that wasn't possible to keep up for too long. So, resignedly, she stepped into the shower, taking her time to clean her whole body thoroughly.

In the middle of her exfoliating body wash routine, she thought she heard a sound coming from her adjoining bedroom, but her face was covered in exfoliate so she just waited until she was done and went in the room with a towel around her. Nothing seemed out of place, so she turned to get back into the bathroom when she started to shiver. Did she leave her window open just a crack? She frowned and wasn't exactly sure if she had or not. Whether the shivering was from the cold or from a creepy feeling she couldn't quite place, she wasn't exactly sure.

But she knew that it was about time to get down to business. Dressing up in some soft pajama pants and a nice long babydoll shirt, she got to work on her plan. She was going to beat Cartman at his own game if it killed her.

Meanwhile, Cartman was finally getting home from running some errands. He had been trying to stay out of the house all day, especially since he knew that the car dealership guy had been coming around the house quite a lot for Ms. Cartman's "special cookies." After having walked in on his mom in several compromising positions with all manner of guys, he knew that there was no use to talk to her. She was a stupid whore. As for most women, they were by default stupid whores to him unless they captured his attention and earned his respect...and by respect, he meant that they weren't total sluts who were not even worth his notice .

That was the problem with women, he thought angrily, tapping into his own pit of anger and hatred. They were all liars. Men too. Everyone lied. Lied like fucking pussies to make nice and serve themselves while they committed all manner of horrors in the name of the greater good or some such bullshit like that. Sometimes that's really the only thing that he could consider worth keeping him going- anger and vengeance and directionless horniness. All of his idols did the same- they lived by their assholery and died by it as well, killed by a bunch of self-same hypocrites pretending that they didn't agree to go along with the horror and the bullshit when it stopped serving them well. At least he was more honest than all that fucking bullshit that people seem to store up in their niceties.

"Oh hello there Marty, I do believe that today is so nice and I'm here to fuck your wife behind your back," Cartman pantomimed, making his hand into a pretend mouth, "Oh, yes, look at me, I'm BIlly McStupidson, and I'm going to keelhaul gays behind my truck for God!"

He admitted, he was a monster- he was just more honest about his monstrosity than anyone else. And that had to count for something, right?

"Five more days, Wendy," he muttered to himself, feeling his pants getting tighter with excitement, "Five more days, and then you're going to agree to be mine."

For some reason, his erection pissed him off. He couldn't let just THINKING about her have that much power over him.

"GOD DAMN IT!" he hissed, "I won't let her win again. I WON'T!"


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Three weeks passed liked lurching hiccups. Some patches of time felt like they just hung on forever. Wendy was certain that she had woken up to the clock on her night table saying 4:59 AM at least three times in a row and then suddenly it was 8:15 AM and her alarm hadn't gone off and she was late and running for the bus.

Cartman had the same problem, oddly enough. He had a calendar in his room, each day marked off with a red X in sharpie marker. Sometimes he was wondering if he was ever going to put another X on that damn calendar. Other days, he looked at the calender with astonishment- really? Only a week left? He sat in the back of the class, a silent reminder boring holes in the back of her head with his gaze when she wasn't looking. Cartman had perfected the art of looking at people who were unaware of him, largely due to growing up without very many real friends due to his shitty behavior and irredeemable actions.

He didn't give a flying fuck that he was being creepy. He knew what he wanted, and it was almost there. Some days he would have a raging hard-on under his desk, imaging and anticipating her acceptance of his deal. He loved it and hated it at the same time, knowing that this turned him on more than any foreplay or any porno. The excitement of the hunt, the knowledge that at some point, it would be over, but not quite now, not quite yet, only the realization of his dogged determination and his knowledge that she would not be able to resist his proposition.

Wendy was a little afraid but also excited. Any chance to show Cartman up and make him regret messing with her always made her feel that butterfly flutter in her stomach. She also had to admit that the idea of an all or nothing bet- her future or her life, left her feeling quite a bit flustered and more than a little off-guard. There was a frightened animal part of her brain, the part that runs with a deer that runs for its life, the fluttering tickle in her throat running through the core of her body and down through her womb, knowing that there is a chance that she won't survive, that the jaws of the beast pursuing her might close around her neck as she struggles wildly, releasing her life into the air.

The fact that the game is so dangerous put her on edge, she felt so much more daring, sexual, alive. After all who cared if she wore a skirt, or a V-neck top? Who cared if she accidentally flashed someone while riding her bike? After all, in a couple more days, she would be shaking hands with the devil and everyone knows that there are no short skirts or V-neck tops in hell. Every day, she brushed her hair a hundred times so that it was like a silk sheet of darkness, moving with her as though it were also alive. She never felt so full of life or so close to the edge of oblivion.

Something inside her loved that feeling, even though she would never admit it.

Three days...two days...one day...her birthday would be officially starting in about twenty minutes. Cartman stood outside her house at 3 AM with his cell phone. It was already frosting outside even though it was only mid October. He wore a large coat, covering his bulky frame. But even with his muscle mass and layer of fat, he was still freezing cold, but it was going to be worth it. Birth records were public, after all. She had been born at exactly 3:20 AM, no sooner, no later. And he was going to make sure she gave him his damn answer.

Wendy was awoken to the sound of her cell phone buzzing incessantly on her nightstand. Since it was still dark outside, she felt disoriented at first and then sleepily grabbed the phone (which is much harder than usual through sleep-fogged eyes) and picked it up.

"Hello?" she said sleepily, although really it came out more like, "Heug-uhhh?"

No one answered and she pulled the phone from her ear to look at the screen. It was a text from an unknown number.

**LOOK OUT YOUR WINDOW** it said.

Any sleep dissipated from her head instantly.

'Shit. It's Cartman. He's here for my answer,' she thought angrily, but she still went to her window and saw him standing there.

She wondered how long he had been there and, in a darker place in her head, hoped it had been at least a couple of hours. His eyes looked glassy and huge from the window- the cold had sucked out all the moisture, so he actually looked a bit teary around the corners, but she wasn't fooled. She knew he was here for business.

Her phone buzzed again.

**LET ME IN HO** it said and Cartman did an exaggerated shiver out the window to accentuate the point.

She sighed- 18 for not 2 minutes and she was already letting awful no-good boys into her room. Something in her stomach lurched with a sick glee at this thought. It was night. In her room. Alone. In the dark. No one to hear her...she tried to shake her head of bad thoughts and opened her window.

Even though she was on the second floor, he was able to shimmy up the tree in her yard fairly well. She giggled a bit when his foot slipped on icy branch and he shook his fist at her in annoyance but otherwise stayed uncharacteristically silent. She knew he had a stake in this too. If he woke up her overprotective parents, he'd have to wait to seal the deal until later, and that was unforgivable in Cartman's eyes.

"So," he whispered in a husky voice as he crawled in the window, "you surprised to see me, ho?"

"Don't call me a ho," Wendy replied in a quiet voice, "You woke ME up at 3 in the morning and wanted to come into my bedroom in the middle of the night so don't start blaming me for this."

"Fine, whateveh," he replied, shrugging it off uncharacteristically, "Let's get down to business. Are you in or are you going to be a dumb bitch?"

"First of all, don't call me a dumb bitch," she was trying not to lose her cool, but she was still tired and getting angry about the whole situation- he was invading her space and acting like she was the one putting *him* out and that just pissed her off.

"Secondly," she said, as he pushed down the window and rubbed his gloved hands together from the cold, "You're going to give me a couple of things before I'm going to agree to the terms of our agreement."

He was unzipping his jacket and stuffing his gloves in his pockets, "Oh really? And what do you propose?"

She went over to her bedside table and opened the drawer, pulling out her list.

"You might want to sit down. There are a good number of WELL WORDED points here- I don't want you taking them out of context," she looked pointedly at him.

"What, me? I'd *never* do that!" he said in a mock-sincere voice and then switched back to his normal tone as he flopped down on her bed making the mattress creak embarrassingly loud, "Let's just hear it, ok?"

"Well first, you will have to provide direct and clear documentation that you can hold up your end of the bargain. If you can't give me my end of the deal, the whole arrangement is off, regardless of whether or not you win."

"Kewl," he was looking around the room now as though he was soaking in all the girliness.

"Secondly, you will include room and board if I win. I want to focus on my studies, possibly do an unpaid internship and I can't do that if I'm slaving away at a pizza place."

"Hehehe, but you'd be hot if you were slaving away," he leered, and then changed to an apologetic tone when she stepped forward with her fists up, "Okay, okay, that can be arranged."

"Thirdly," she said with a somewhat quavering voice, "If I lose..."

"Yeah, if you LOSE...?" his smile was getting wide again.

"If I lose, you can't force me to do anything that will kill/maim me or someone else, and you can't force me to do something illegal."

"Well, duh," he scoffed, "It wouldn't be fun unless you WANTED to do those things."

Wendy found herself blushing a bit- she wasn't sure if it was ire, embarrassment or...well what else could it be? She tried to push on, without examining it too much.

"Finally, if I win, you have to leave me alone for the rest of my life and stop dragging me or my family into your stupid plans, your dangerous behaviors or anything else of the sort."

He shrugged, laying back so his head was touching her pillow and stretched out until his boots hung out over the end of the bed, "That sounds fair to me."

She was suspicious that he was taking this so well and the look on her face said as much.

"Don't worry, Wendy, you just have to seal our deal and I'll agree to everything you've said here. I'll even sign that stupid paper you're holding like a maxi pad. But that just leaves sealing the deal." He was purring, victoriously looking at her like a predator sizing up prey.

"What are you...?" she felt the butterflies again.

"Come over here," he said, his voice not wavering a bit.

"Wha-"

"Just fucking come here, okay?"

She cautiously walked towards him as though she were approaching a sleeping predator.

"You're not going to...?" the question was left unasked.

"Sit on the bed," he commanded, hissing it out in a whisper.

"You'd better not try anything funny or..." Or what, she thought to herself. He was bigger, stronger and had more leverage. Suddenly she felt very, very small, which for the first time wasn't actually a good thing.

She sat down on the edge of the bed finally and he sat up, swinging his legs so they came around on either side of her.

"You need to seal the deal...with a kiss," his eyes were mocking.

She felt the fire of anger growing in her stomach- KISS HIM? Who the hell did he think he was?

"No way!" she almost shouted, and then subdued her voice, fearing that she'd wake her parents and have to explain why a boy was sitting on her bed at 3:45 AM.

He grabbed her arms and she halfheartedly struggled, he pulled his face to hers and said in a deadly whisper, "Bitch, I'm not going to seal the deal until you consent to it. Otherwise, kiss your chance goodbye."

She bit her own lip a little, thinking about that prospect. This was her chance. And if she had to kiss him now, she'd just rub it in his face when she won- yes, just keep thinking about winning-WINNING- this twisted contest.

"Yes..." she finally replied.

"Yes, what?" there was the deadly whisper again, holding up a piece of paper that he'd pulled from his pocket and pointing at it for her to read.

"Yes, Eric Cartman, I Wendy Testeberger consent to this contract and all that entails," she said, her face blushing with embarrassment thinking of what it might actually entail.

Their lips met, her pushing angrily upon his- he was still cold from standing outside and the slight stubble on his face scratched her a little. One of his hands nestled around the back of her head, cradling it but not pushing her in. He opened his mouth a bit, licking her lips softly with his tongue. She couldn't help but notice he didn't taste bad- like he had actually brushed his teeth for once, and the scent of his body alone (it was obvious that he was freshly showered too, his hair was still icy and damp) was familiar and...comforting, actually. She couldn't place the scent, other than the fact that it basically made her body instantly relax.

Of course, her stupid brain had to ruin the moment by screaming at her OH MY GOD THIS IS CARTMAN AND YOU ARE KISSING HIM. She pulled back and his hand dropped from the back of her head. She looked him in the eyes the best she could in the darkened room.

"Ok, it's on," she said gasping a little.

"Yeah," he said softly, "It's definitely on."

He got up off the bed, put his jacket and gloves on and went out the window, down the tree and out into the early morning without a word. All the exhaustion that she'd pushed away with pure adrenaline flooded back into her body and she collapsed on her bed.

The pillow's scent reminded her of him, and confusingly, she felt her heart leap with something other than anger and disgust. She wasn't sure if she liked it or not, but she was so tired that she fell asleep breathing in that scent, relaxing into it like she was coming home for the first time.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

"When you made me promise that I had to help you get a 4.0 GPA, that wasn't a promise to do your work FOR YOU," Wendy was annoyed and in Cartman's room- two things that she wasn't happy about.

"Well, it's not my fault that you're a terrible teacher," Cartman whined, sounding nasal even in his deeper voice.

"If you think that you're going to get me to go back on my word just so you can win, you have another thing coming!" Wendy scoffed and crossed her arms.

"That would make sense," he replied, "If I didn't also want to get that fucking car!"

Wendy had to admit that he was making sense.

"Fine," she replied, "But you have to get over here and help me go over the anthropology test. If you don't help out, you're going to bomb on the test and you're not going to get that 4.0."

She started reciting off the mock test questions and he started answering her, often creating funny quips or silly asides about the subject matter.

"OOOH, watch out!" he said in an exaggerated tone, "It's MONKEY RADIATION!"

"You know that's not what it means!" Wendy laughed, and even though she knew there were big things at stake, she felt herself relaxing around him.

"So, what does that mean, you get enough monkeys together and you get MONKEY NUCLEAR FUSION?" he was gesturing in the air for the full effect and Wendy found herself practically rolling on the ground with mirth.

Things actually went quite well with studying until around three hours into their study session. They heard a lot of shouting and screaming. One of Ms. Cartman's "clients" was getting upset. Cartman put his hands over his ears and closed his eyes.

"Eric, what's wrong?" She didn't use his first name very often, but this was the first time she used it out of concern.

"I just don't want to have to fucking listen to that whore anymore!" he said loudly, hands over ears.

She looked at the door, hearing a man's voice loudly shouting a large string of horrible things. No wonder he had such a colorful language. Wendy started to feel a pang of guilt for being so hard on him in the past.

"Don't fucking feel sorry for me," he was glaring at her, "This is my life- I deal with it."

She knew that he was still plugging his ears, so she did the only thing she could think of. She got up and curled up next to him, putting her hands over his to shut out the sound even more. He didn't say a word in return, nor did he try to move her hands. She just leaned into him with her hands there until the voices dropped away to nothing, and even then, they stayed like that for awhile longer, closing eyes, blocking out the world as though maybe, just maybe, they could escape everything that made them who they were if they just tried hard enough.

It wasn't until later that Wendy thought sadly to herself, "Sure Cartman, you always get what you want...except when you don't."

That evening in her bedroom, she started to doubt herself, her resolve. What was she even doing- taking advantage of him- taking advantage of his screwed up life and his ability to pull strings?

'Oh my god, am I just as bad as he is- no, maybe worse because I'm not even honest with myself about this shit?' she thought to herself.

Her phone buzzed, bringing her back from her reverie.

**WHY DID YOU HAVE TO MAKE THIS SO HARD? **it said.

She blushed, thinking to herself that maybe, maybe he had changed- or maybe it wasn't that he had changed at all, but she was actually seeing him as he actually was- that before, that was all the bullshit- that she was reading his actions through her own civility and need for social graces. But then she pushed the down button for "more" and noticed he had attached a picture of his penis-his ERECT penis.

"Oh gross!" she shouted, dropping the phone like it WAS a penis, "No, I was right- he is a fucking asshole."

But she was curious. And there was no one else in the room. She crawled down on hands and knees to retrieve her phone, which had scooted under her bed a bit. She'd seen penises before- after all, this was South Park- they had them grafted to MICE. But this was, all things considered, a pretty nice penis. If she didn't know it was attached to...him...she might even be able to think...GAH WHAT WAS SHE EVEN THINKING? But she couldn't help herself, and part of her cursed him for sending it to her. She couldn't judge size, but god, it was hard and it was sent specifically for her. Without really noticing it, she became suddenly aware at how hot she felt below her panties, and she blushed when she realized that this was from looking...at...Eric's...

She shut the phone, but she couldn't get it out of her head- it was etched in her head. Her horniness just kept increasing by the minute until she could hardly stand it anymore. Her panties felt like they were getting wetter by the minute...all because of some stupid fucking picture.

'Am I really going to...?' She couldn't help but get onto her bed and spread her legs so she could rub against the parts of her body begging to be touched, begging to feel that release of pressure and desire and need. A surge of anger in her brain- this was fucking unfair of him!- was quickly overtaken by the sexual aching that ran through her clitoris and up around her vaginal lips until it kissed pleasure into her womb. She felt alive, buzzing with this sexual pressure- over some stupid cock pic- but god, it was him, it was-why the hell did it have to be him?

With expert fingers, she began to touch herself in the way that she knew best, tracing the folds of her body in ways that she had figured out through trial and error (but mostly error), and found herself edging- not wanting to come but wanting to hold onto that silver sunshine of pleasure building up upon itself and growing until it's unbearable, denying herself and starting over again, reaching higher plateaus until she could stand it no more and her entire body is finally vibrating with the orgasm- her body clenches around a phantom penis, the one in her head that she can't un-see, and her clit feels like it's going to border on pain if she keeps touching it like this. Her breathing is hard, ragged until she begins to come out of the orgasm-induced haze.

She had to replace her soaked panties, but that was fine- it was worth it. As horrible as it was to think about the logistics of the whole situation, the long and the short of it was the fact that this picture was fucking HOT and it did something to her that she had never fully felt before, even with her brief forays into Internet porn. And that brought her to the thought that-oh god-was he doing it at the same time as she was? She needed to get revenge on him- some sign that she knew what he was up to and that she wasn't really as shaken as she actually was.

Then she got an idea. And she knew what she would have to do.

'Just you wait, Eric,' she thought to herself, 'I'm going to one-up YOU this time.'

Wendy was actually not too far off in her assessment. Cartman was sitting in his room feeling the itch- the one that made him imagine Wendy doing not-so-innocent things in innocuous poses that he'd filed away in his head for years. That time she bent over to pick up a pencil on school picture day- the day she always wore a short skirt. The time when she was running with Bebe past the house and OH GOD THOSE TITS. The time he saw her running on the track, breathing heavily and opening her mouth to catch her breath- he imagined her like that if they ever...

He clenched his fist, cursing his hard-on, poking out into the soft fabric of his boxers. God, she always made him feel this way and he hated that fact. But then he got a wicked look in his eyes and thought to himself- why should HE be the only one to think naughty thoughts? He pulled back the flap on the boxers and his cock sprang free from them. He loved how it always seemed to spring up when he was really horny- a prime specimen of manhood, he always thought, but not in a gay way or anything, he reminded himself. He pulled out his cell phone and clicked to take a picture while he was still feeling brave, posting the short little message and sending it as an attachment to Wendy's cell. He imagined her receiving it, smiling thinking of her throwing it to the floor and going on about how gross it was.

He wondered what she would say if she saw it in real life- if she was placed face to face with how she made him feel in moments of weakness. He imagined her frustrated look as she licked the tip of his cock, making him twitch. Stroking himself with his hand, using some saliva for lubrication, he couldn't help but stroke himself slowly building a rhythm, imaging her sucking him, riding him, begging for his cum, would he suck her tits please, god no, he couldn't stop. He came messily, semen shooting out onto his boxers, a bit landing onto the arm of his chair. It was so good when it was her...why did it have to be so fucking good? He realized that he'd made a mess and reached for some tissues- usually he didn't space out like that. But she had...she had kissed him, she had covered his ears and cuddled close to him too.

'Yeah, but she only did that because she felt sorry for you,' his inner voice told him, 'You practically pushed that kiss on her.'

A wave of shame washed over him- when did he turn into one of those manipulative jerks, when did he stop being so transparent- when did he actually get to a point where he actually could stand to lose something he found precious? He crumpled the semen-stained tissue into his fist. God, he needed to win, he needed to win so badly. He couldn't be satisfied until she was HIS. Forever. He wanted to punch her, kiss her, kill her, kill himself. It was so messy, it was so wrong, but god, he wanted it.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

The morning after the "text message incident," Cartman awoke to a rapping on his window. Well that's not quite true. In actuality, he opened his eyes halfway before turning over and throwing the pillow over his head so he could get a few more minutes of sleep. He had stayed up way too late the night before trying to forget how pissed he was about giving into his weakness- he had to go kill something on his game system- shooting down aliens until the sky started getting lighter and the stars began to disappear. 'Shit,' he had thought, 'I have to get up tomorrow- have to talk to her...FUCK, what am I even doing!' His anger got the best of him and it took him another hour of shooting minorities in GTA 4 before he could even think of sleep.

Wendy smiled, somewhat unkindly, seeing him do this and waited until he had stopped moving. She'd climbed up his tree (the one that seemed to grow next to every house in South Park for some reason) with her "present" in a small box under her arm. She was breathless with anticipation and fear. What if he woke up? Was she really going to do this? Her cheeks turned red when she thought of what he had...MADE...her do the night before, and clenched her fist, steadying her feet on the branches. She checked the window, sliding it up quietly with her free hand. There was a moment when it squeaked briefly and her heart went silent, blood running cold with fear. But he only turned over, still asleep, snorting as he moved. She only needed to get the window open just enough to lightly toss the box in the window, lightly landing on the lower end of the bed between his splayed-out legs.

'Perfect,' she thought smugly, noting that it had landed with the small pink silk bow facing up. It was an extra touch that would GUARANTEE he'd open it when he woke up.

She took one last look and couldn't keep herself from looking up past his legs, and blushing madly when she realized that there was a tell-tale lump at groin level. Flustered and feeling a hot line traveling all the way down to her vaginal lips, she shut the window harder than she would have otherwise liked, hoping that he wouldn't wake up until she had finally made her escape. God damn him, she was going to have to get home quickly before she couldn't control herself anymore.

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"Ughhhh," Cartman wasn't happy about waking up to his alarm, even though it played the Terrance and Philip theme song and always ended with a hilarious fart solo. He sat up, rubbing his head and brushing his hair out of his eyes with his fingers. Through sleep-filled sight, his eyes alighted on the box, which was now pushing up against his thigh. His stomach lurched a bit in confusion and anticipation.

"And what do we have here?" he spoke to the empty room as he bent over at the waist as best he could (NO, NOT FAT, JUST BIG BONED, he reminded himself for the millionth time), and grabbed it in one hand by the bow, holding it up close to his face suspiciously. First he sniffed it. No, it definitely wasn't shit, like that time that Stan had left him that flaming box of dog poo on his front porch after he had made fun of his gay dog yet again. Actually...he knew that smell...it was _her_. His morning erection twitched at the thought, and he practically smacked himself with annoyance. He pinched his thumb and forefinger together at one end of the bow and gingerly pulled the bow apart, untying the ribbon and rolling it up onto his bedside table. He opened the box cautiously, and peered inside.

It was a pair of panties.

"Holy shit!" he shouted, tossing them to the floor in surprise. His eyes were like saucers. What the hell was she thinking? How the hell did she get-holyshitholyshitholyshit!

But then he realized that he had just thrown them (WENDY'S PANTIES ZOMG) on the floor and immediately jumped off the bed to get them back. They were so soft in his hand. Upon closer observation, her panties were small, simple and black, cut in a string bikini style. The elastic on one side was starting to unravel, revealing a small hole where the elastic and the material was beginning to come apart. They smelled like her in an earthy almost spicy way. It was then that his body ached for her in a way that it never had before. No...he was supposed to have won the freak out game with his cock pic, why was this making him feel so crazy?

His brain began to spin, and he couldn't help himself. He rubbed the panties against his stiff cock, feeling the soft cotton rub against the head, making him twitch with glee. He knew that it was so fucking wrong- here he was rubbing his cock against the crotch of her panties- panties that were obviously stained with her vaginal juices. He wanted to wash his cock in this smell, this smell that was unique to her and her alone, and so what if he had stopped really focusing, so what if he was late to classes, all he wanted to do was imagine how it would feel to dry-hump against her while she was wearing these, move the crotch apart and slide his cock against the wetness underneath, push his bare cock deep inside of her and make her _his_ so she would never, ever be able to get away again.

This was not the way he wanted to start his morning- his anger flared at the thought that she could have this much power over him. He hated his passion, the "other head" between his legs, growing turgid with vengeance from the moment he had hit puberty as though to match his anger and hatred at minorities, religious people, and fucking stupid-ass hippies. He got on his knees, burying his face in the pillow, ass up in the air and pulled down his pajama pants to his thighs. He moaned low when his hand, seemingly without any conscious thought on his part, wrapped the panties around the length of his cock, sliding them around it, up and down in that familiar rhythm, filling his mind with that white light of pleasure that he couldn't get any other way.

"Ahh, fuuuuuuuuuuuck," he groaned into his pillow, quickening his pace-his cock felt like was on fire with pleasure.

He started to hold his breath, feeling the build-up caressing him as his testicles drew out and away from his body, getting ready to pump cum futilely out onto soft cotton. When he thought he couldn't feel any more, he felt his balls contracting harshly, his cock pulsating quickly as it pumped out a good-sized load of semen all over the panties. They were soaked (for a second time) but he didn't care. He had originally wanted to torture her to freak her out the only way he knew how, to get his car and send her own her dumb ass hippy way so he didn't have to look at her stupid face ever again. But now...

Things were changing. And he didn't like it one bit.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Wendy wanted to avoid him today if at all possible. She had been able to keep her thoughts at bay all morning through the strength of sheer willpower, but the idea of seeing him after he received her..."gift" was frightening. It opened a cool pit of fear deep in her chest. What if he took it as an invitation? After all, Cartman wasn't known for leaving a challenge unanswered. She started beating herself up in her head- stupid stupid stupid, just when things were starting to go my way-but she couldn't do that for long. She checked her watch just long enough to realize that unless she rode her bike at top speed, she was going to be late for class. She latched her helmet onto her head, slung her bookbag over her shoulder and conserved her energy for the ride over.

As much as she hated to admit it, she couldn't just LEAVE him sitting there, smug and knowing that he had something over her. It didn't work when they were kids and it wouldn't work now, regardless of the fact that he was easily stronger than she was. When it came to brains, she wouldn't let herself be outdone, and she knew she couldn't forgive herself if she let him get away with his bullshit.

The school day flew by ridiculously quickly, and with each class, Wendy felt that uncomfortable coldness in her chest until she realized that Cartman hadn't come to class all day. There were no snide remarks or thinly veiled insults and digs. Somehow she almost missed it...but then the coldness came back when she realized that he'd need the notes from class and she'd have to go by his house (OH GOD, ALONE IN HIS ROOM, the panicked thought rocketed through her mind) in order to keep her end of their bargain. Now she really regretted her stunt. She knew that there was going to be something waiting for her, and the tickling dread in her stomach wasn't altogether convinced if it would be great after all or the worst possible thing.

After classes were done for the rest of the day, she hung around the campus, trying to put off the inevitable. She stopped by the computer lab and checked her email, but as usual, none of her friends had sent her anything. She checked her social networking page, but it was mostly other people talking about how great THEIR lives were OFF IN COLLEGE LAND and for the hundredth time, she wanted to throw up with jealousy. She wasn't just making a bet with Cartman because he made her feel this way, she reminded herself, because it was always drama in some horrifyingly epic way whenever they clashed, because it would keep her mind off the fact that she was going down a path that would probably never lead her to where she wanted to be.

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The sun was going down and the wind was picking up by the time she rode her bike up to the front of his house and cable-locked it around the tree in the front yard. She sent a text message to her mom about studying with classmates so she wouldn't get suspicious- when it was about school, her parents never asked any questions, to them, she was their intellectual and they never seemed as proud of her as when she was raking in academic awards and certificates.

She knocked on the door softly-maybe she could just leave the notes in his mailbox or something-the thought was barely out before Mrs. Cartman opened the door and smiled in that sappy sweet way she always seemed to have ready at her disposal.

"Well hello there, you must be one of Eric's little community college friends," she said, as though she had just found a basket of kittens and sunshine out on the doorstep, "Are you here to help Eric study again? I am so glad that his classmate is taking an interest in helping him do well!"

"Uh, well," Wendy stammered a little before catching herself, " So here are the notes I took in class, I'd really appreciate if you could get them to Ca-er-Eric for me."

"Nonsense! Let me just call him- ERIC HONEY YOUR FRIEND IS HERE," she shouted, and for some reason, Wendy couldn't help but feel the color rising to her cheeks.

He came down the stairs without a word, wearing black boot cut jeans and a long-sleeved burgundy button-up shirt. Both were wrinkled and looked like he had just picked them out of a pile from the floor. She wasn't sure what she had been expecting, but he didn't address her when he was speaking.

"Why yes, ma, this is Wendy, and we're going to go up and study just like yesterday," he said, his voice disturbingly even.

Somehow, though, he kept his eyes locked on hers in a way that instantly let her know that he wouldn't let her go, not without a fight. Wendy couldn't imagine what would happen if it all came out in front of his mom, so she simply nodded as though nothing was wrong and followed him up the stairs.

He closed the door behind her and she knew she was trapped, but she wasn't sure what that meant and her panties were starting to get wet again, regardless of what she kept trying to tell her brain.

"You made a mistake," he said, turning to face her.

"What...what do you mean?" her voice quivered a little.

He came closer to her and she backed up, feeling her body tense up.

"Hmmm...I know that smell," he sniffed, getting down on his knee and bringing his face down to her crotch level, "That's your horny smell. I know what it is now."

"I-I don't know what you're talking about," she tried to brush past him but he grabbed her by the wrist and she swung around, falling backwards onto his bed.

"We give off scents, you know," he moved dangerously quickly, his nose suddenly pressed against hers, his body over her but not quite touching her at all, "Can you smell me? Do you know how to recognize mine?"

She shivered, unconsciously falling back into that memory of the pillow, the scent of his hair imprinted onto the fabric.

He leaned down, his mouth next to her left ear and whispered in a dangerously quiet voice, "Do you want to know what we'd smell like together?"

She felt her whole face growing hot with a blush, as he brought down some of his weight, slowly so she was pushing up against his stomach and torso.

"Tell me you want it," he purred softly, "And we can find out."

"I-" she was breathing short and shallowly.

"Look me in the eye and tell me no and I'll let you go," he said, meeting her gaze with his own eyes, grinning defiantly, all the while feeling the color rising to his own cheeks, mirroring her blush.

Her stomach was in knots, she couldn't breathe, but it had nothing to do with his weight pressing against her, his face millimeters from her own. She closed her eyes, she couldn't bear to look at him another second, she'd fall into her weakness, fall into his eyes and then there would be nothing left but raw animal desire, unrestrained and wild.

"Don't..." she said, and he moved up, no longer touching her, and that made her moan softly, "Don't...go..."

It was then that she found herself attached to him, like their bodies were merging together through sheer magnetism. Their kisses were so deep it was as though they were trying to crawl into one another's body. Her head, her heart and her womb felt like they were on fire, why did this feel so fucking good? He gasped and she mewled, both of them grabbing the backs of one another's heads, digging fingers through hair, angling to kiss deeper, locking their faces in lust.

He felt something stir inside of him, a papery rustle through his heart. Something blindingly achy and light began to grow into a full pulse pounding roar inside of him. His head filled again with light and heat, feeling as though his very soul was on fire with desire. How could SHE do this to him? Why HER? He hated the fact that he wanted her as much as she wanted him, and even now, they both felt powerless to stop what was happening- their bodies were like a long line of dominos, set up in a chain reaction, falling into one another, running their bodies through pent-up lust and longing and anger and competitiveness.

When she unbuttoned his shirt, she felt like someone else was controlling her fingers, as though she was looking at it from far away. When she rubbed her fingers against the soft hair on his puffy chest, tracing his nipples, she couldn't help but feel like a scientist looking at some sort of specimen, the rest of her brain locked in animal lust, kissing and clawing at his body. He took her chin in his thumb and pulled it up to meet her lips in deep, hot throaty kisses. She moaned into him, and he melted with each one, reciprocating gladly.

He tugged at her pants, and she felt afraid for the first time, grabbing his hand and instead bringing them up to the bottom of her shirt and she felt him sit up, getting up in an upright position long enough for him to pull the shirt over her head, leaving her in only her bra. She blushed when she realized that this was the first time anyone had looked at her in her underwear like this.

"You...you're so," he breathed, humming with desire, "...oh god..."

He touched her then, clumsily running his hands on her breasts, surprisingly warm and a little rough. She felt her nipples hardening with the touch and he smiled a little wickedly at that.

"Looks like you're-" he said and she stopped him there with her lips, kissing him as he rubbed her over her bra, and using her own hands to reach behind and unclasp the back. He ran his fingers over her nipples, then, feeling them spring up under his fingertips, hard and erect. He broke off their kiss as she moaned a little in the back of her throat and took one of her nipples into his mouth, flicking around it with his tongue. She wondered momentarily where he had learned this little trick, before she couldn't think anymore because oh god it felt so good. He began to massage the other breast, taking his mouth off of the first and moving to the second, the cold air enhancing the pleasure of the first and she breathed in sharply, her head feeling like it was filling up with pleasure and nothing else. He played with her, mercilessly teasing her breasts until he couldn't stand it any longer.

"I want you," he hissed breathlessly into her ear, feeling his body unconsciously bring his groin down and grind into hers, "I want you to want me too."

Her head was so full of light, she couldn't think straight, all she could do was moan at the thought of actually seeing IT, the very thing that she had etched into her mind from the night before.

"Tell me that you want me," he said, grabbing her hands and putting them near the button of his pants, "Open _your _present."

Her fingers were sloppy from being drunk with lust and desire. She got the button open and unzipped the zipper. He was wearing the jeans below his gut, and she pulled them down easy from his hips, leaving him in his boxers. There was a telltale lump protruding underneath and she almost couldn't breathe. He kicked off the pants and stood up so she could be closer at that level. She felt like she was pulling them down from far away and almost giggled when his erection bounced out from under the elastic of the boxer's band. She pulled the boxers down the best she could before he had kicked them off and all she could do was stare at his bare cock.

It was so hard, the head poking out almost like a turtle's, a small vein running up the top of the shaft. He had a small bush of pubic hair but his testicles were still quite visible underneath and they were quite large indeed. She couldn't really tell how long he was, but suddenly she couldn't help herself- she wanted to feel him in her mouth, she wanted to see how freaked out he would be if she slipped her lips over the head of his cock.

"So Wehhh-hhehhehehhhhhhnnnnn," was all he said when she looked up at him straight in the eye and proceeded to slip his cock into her mouth.

"Ahhnnnn!" he cried, trying to cover his mouth so he wouldn't be so loud. She looked up and gave him a wicked grin, running her teeth gently over his cock and then using her tongue to lick around the shaft, increasing the pressure of her lips.

"HAHNNNNN! FUCK-NOGODWENDYNO-AHN!" he was incoherent, his legs quivering. He was losing control, and she loved that she made him get to that point, to lose himself.

She brushed her hair from one side without letting up, and he couldn't help but look down at her, deeply into her eyes watching her mouth rubbing him in a place that no one else had ever touched before.

"I'm going to-" he choked out, and she stopped moving completely, looking up defiantly at him.

He was stunned. She had complete control over him and he couldn't remember how that had happened. She began licking and nibbling gently on him, but every time he started to tense up to get to the point of no return, she'd stop, giving him that infuriating look like she knew what he wanted but she wasn't quite yet ready to give it to him.

After a few minutes of this, he was starting to get frustrated. Was she ever going to let him cum? His look said as much and somehow she realized it.

"Come here," she said, pulling him down to meet her lips. She tasted good, a little salty from his pre-cum leaking into her mouth but nothing weird or bad. So much for girls' mouths being so much dirtier.

She grabbed her breasts and pulled them apart her face deep red with lust and embarrassment at what she was about to say, "I want it here, just in case you're wondering if I consent to this whole...whatever this is..."

He placed his cock between her breasts obligingly, and moaned when he felt her squish them together, creating a warm tight place for him to rub against. Her lingering saliva gave him perfect friction and before he could think about anything else, his body was humping furiously away, wishing that he could be inside her, but god this was amazing in and of itself.

When his balls began to ache with pleasure, he moaned so loudly that he was sure his mom would hear and come up the stairs to ask what was wrong. Before he knew what was happening, he was ejaculating, wave after wave of pulsating pleasure forcing his brain into a messy orgasmic oblivion.

The heat and warmth of his cum surprised her, but in some sick and twisted way she was also proud of it, like it was proof that she had won, like she was above it all. He collapsed next to her, running his fingers through her soft hair and wanting to hold her close, but she had to take care of business now that the haze was mostly gone. She went over to his bedside table to get tissues to wipe up the mess on her chest. He watched her walk topless, feeling himself twitch inside to watch her hips sway as she moved. It was like some hazy dream, one that neither of them was quite sure was real. She noticed him looking and exaggerated the swing of her ass, noticing with some pride that his now-flaccid penis was twitching a little even now.

He couldn't let her win, though. He knew that she was lording it over him, even in his post-orgasm reverie, and that was unforgivable.

He began by kissing her lips, her neck, moving down her breasts, licking her nipples until she sighed in this infuriatingly cute and sexy way, rubbing his hands over her stomach (she flinched a little when he reached the pouchy area under her belly button, but he simply kissed it again without saying anything disparaging. He kissed her hips, making her gasp, and began to unbutton her jeans clumsily, his big fingers catching on the button clasp and he cursed when he poked himself in he finger with the sharp end of the zipper pull.

She couldn't push him away, he was all strength and hands and passion. His desire washed over her, a wave of heat that overwhelmed her, like a wolf at her throat. She laid back on the bed, her hair splayed out like a fan behind her, gasping as the fabric of her jeans slid down in a deliciously naughty way from her hips, over her thighs, and down her knees past her toes. She became all-too aware about the heat emanating from between her legs under her shell-pink panties, like a beacon advertising how much her body wanted this, regardless of what her rational brain tried to scream at her, the need of her body simply drowned it out.

He kissed her around the hem of her panties.

"Oh!-ahhhhhh," she moaned, trying to cover her mouth with her hands, closing her eyes in embarrassment at the sounds coming from her mouth.

He smiled, thinking about how their game had deepened. He had a tally in his head- he wanted to get her louder than he had gotten, to prove to her that she wasn't just here because he had tricked her, or some other bullshit rationalization she would probably try and come up with later when all of this was over. He made up his mind-he was going to fuck her until she could only think about him, about wanting him, about being attached to _him_ and him alone. He tried to dismiss the little voice in the back of his head that reminded him that he mirrored that desire. It was too terrifying to imagine anyone, much less _Wendy Testeberger_ having that power over him. It was much easier to imagine that somehow, he was simply continuing their game of one-upping each other, wrapped in eternal conflict of hate and love and sex and revulsion.

He brought his mouth close to the tight, supple skin on her thighs, supplying small kisses and licks from her knees to where her thighs met her hips. The foggy heat of between her legs was so fucking hot in more than one way. He felt his cock twitching again, rising halfway at the thought that this was for _him_; _**he had done this to her**__._ He ran a finger under the elastic of her panties and she gasped, her legs twitching. He was going so damn slow- she could barely stand it.

Her clit felt like it was about to explode. Her hands went down to the elastic band on her panties, trying to pull them down a little to show him what she really wanted, but his hands caught hers, fingers entwining and pulled them away so they were on either side of her, pinning them down. He brought his face down to the waistband, grabbing it gently with his teeth and slowly pulling them down to reveal her neatly trimmed pubic mound, the elastic slipping halfway down the sides of her thighs. He released the material, his tongue licking around the inside of her upper hip, around the top of her pubic mound, enjoying how she twitched like electricity was running through her entire body. He grabbed the elastic in his teeth again and more forcefully pulled down until the elastic came free of her thighs, pulling them down low enough so she was laid bare to his eyes. She mewled with surprise and excitement, feeling the air against her bare skin, hot shallow puffs of his breath rising to meet her own inner heat and lust as he stared, his face a mixture of pure lust and shock.

God, it was beautiful- he never thought he'd think that about anything below a woman's waist. It was wet and hot and aching just for him, he had no doubt. He released her hands to pull her panties the rest of the way down her legs, freeing her completely and smiled when she instantly spread her legs, like a flower opening up to show its beauty to the sun.

He flashed her a wicked smile, even though she had moved her hands back to her face and was half-covering her eyes with open fingers, not sure if she wanted to look to see him-ERIC CARTMAN- bringing his lips to her most private of places, kissing her hotly, bringing up his fingers to insert them into her body-_**ah!**_- the first time she'd ever-_**fucking hell!**_-had anyone put-_**oh god!**_-their fingers inside of her body. She raised up her knees, bucking into his touch as he slid his finger into her, amazed at how hot and rich her wetness was and how not bothered in the least he was at getting it on himself.

"Nyahhhh," she said, embarrasedly, "Plee-please..."

"Please, what?" he said, trying to keep his voice even as his own erection sprang back to full veracity.

"Your -aawwhhh- fingers..." she trailed off, feeling her body tensing, "Mahhh-mmmmoore!"

He brought his middle and forefinger together, twisting them inside of her and pulling in and out, his thumb lightly resting against her clit.

"Ahh, too much!" she cried out- her clit was so sensitive, that his touch practically hurt like hell.

He withdrew his thumb, and she bucked against his hand, her mind a million miles away, awash in pleasure.

"Fuck, Eric, I'm-nygehhhhh!" she came without warning, her walls twitching and pulling on his fingers like they had a mind of their own. He couldn't help but smile at this victory, knowing he'd made her do something that she'd never admit he could do to her, that she couldn't help but scream his name.

He licked his fingers, tasting that earthy spiciness and shot her a wicked look.

Her body went limp, feeling the pleasure die down into a glowing heat, radiating outward from her heart. It was then she looked at him with something bordering on love and gratitude, something beyond her control.

He moved onto her, his face close to hers, whispering deliciously in her ear.

"I want to be inside of you," his breath was hot, his words almost like a dare.

Her eyes fluttered open, and she felt the ache rising in her womb, "Do you have...?"

"What, a condom? No," he finished her thought, and her chest leaped with a strange mixture of anticipation and fear.

"I have a proposition for you," he continued, "I"m going to put my bare cock inside of you, and you're going to tell me when to stop. If you don't tell me to stop, I'm going to keep going, ok?"

"I-I bet that you can't make me cum again anyway," she said, blushing deeply, "After all, that first time must have been a fluke!"

She couldn't take back what she said and almost instantly regretted saying it. Why was she still so willing to put herself at risk, just to see him squirm?

His eyes widened- he had expected her to stop him, so he could gloat, victorious at the ultimate freak-out, but his body stiffened, aching madly just thinking about doing it. He couldn't just give up and let her know that he'd been half-bluffing.

"Oh, so you think I can't, do you?" his grinned evily, showing his teeth and rubbing the head of his cock against her, feeling those pink lips folding back, still wet and hot to the touch.

She gritted her teeth, trying not to show him how fucking good it felt, "O-of course not!"

"Even when I do THIS?" he grunted as the head of his cock entered her body. So. Fucking. Good.

"N-Ahn!" she gasped- it was so much more _filling_ than his fingers. SO. FUCKING. GOOD.

"Why aren't you bleeding, bitch?" he growled into her ear, "You-AHN-haven't done this before, have you?"

"SHUT UP!" her anger flared up and she pushed into him, taking in his entire length until she could feel it bump up against her cervix.

He groaned, his head filling with pleasure, but he couldn't stop himself from pushing her further, "Oh, so who was it? Stan with his tiny little gay cock? Kenny with his poor trash cock? Making you bleed for the first time like a dirty little slut?"

"You fucking ass," she hissed back at him, gasping as he plunged back and forth inside of her, pressing his weight onto her, "For your-**augh**-fucking infor-**haa!**-mation, I broke my hymen-**nyahn**-when I did the-**yah!**-splits too quickly as a kid."

"Oh...really?" he could only really manage a couple words at a time, his body was tensing and he was breathing more and more rapidly, sweat pooling at his temples.

"Yes-**ummph**- really," she narrowed her eyes and looked at him defiantly, "It fucking **HURT**, fatass."

He couldn't keep talking- he was going to fuck this up, oh god, he had never felt so much pleasure in his life- he didn't want to stop doing this to her, putting her in her place, marking her body as his and his alone. He drew close to her again, and she turned her face away from him, which made his stomach lurch uncomfortably.

"Look me in the eyes when I fuck you," he hissed at her, and she turned to look him then, lunging at his neck and sinking her teeth into him, making him gasp at the sudden pain.

"Fuck! What was that for!" he shouted, but he knew exactly why and she gave him the same toothy smile that he had given her only a few minutes before. There was something in that smile that drove him wild, defying all reason. She met his lips this time, kissing him fiercely and he thrust his tongue into her mouth, hard and fast, mirroring his cock.

"You want this, don't you?" he said in a singsong voice. "You want me to shoot my cum deep inside of you!"

He had been the first to say what both of them had been trying wildly to deny. There was no going back from it.

The idea was terrifying and hot beyond belief at the same time.

Wendy felt her mind racing to places it had never gone before. He was so strong with his weight on her, his bare cock thrusting into her, making a horribly naughty wet sound. His mouth was tracing hers, wanting her, pressing his scent into hers with his body, his need, and her body was matching him thrust for thrust, so wet and tight, squeezing his cock like she had been made just for that purpose.

She imagined feeling him pulsating, shooting his load deep into her, and her eyes rolled back into her head, unable to tell him to stop even if she'd wanted him to do so. Ah, she could get pregnant if he came inside of her, but part of her brain, the animal part was aching to feel their mating come to fruition, to allow him to fuck her, make his baby grow in her womb.

"You'd be so hot with a baby bump," he said, almost like he was reading her mind. To be honest, he'd had thoughts like this before, and every time they had left him with a raging hard-on. The idea of truly _owning_ her body by making her carry his unborn child was like some sick and twisted desire that he couldn't turn away from, could no longer deny. He had known somewhere in his brain when he had brought his wager to her that this was what he had meant by making her belong to him.

She was moaning constantly now, she felt like she was losing her sense of Self, her body rocking with pleasure as he slid in and out of her, his pubic mound grinding into her clit, and he couldn't deny that the sexy noises she was making combined with how wet she was, her vagina clenching around him tightly and her lips against his were making it hard to delay his orgasm.

"You're going to come, aren't you?" he broke his lips from hers and whispered breathlessly in her ear.

"Please...ahhhhhhhhhh...Eric..." she could barely speak.

"I'm so close," he replied, gasping, "Your fucking cunt is so good, I can't help it...I..AH! FUCK! YESSSSSSSSS!"

He sped up, and she knew that he was going to come soon and there was no way he was going to pull out. His cock bottomed out against her cervix, making her gasp and writhe under him. She felt her orgasm building and she knew that it wasn't just because he was pounding against her most sensitive place, her mind was getting off on the thought of him filling her to the brim with his cum.

She grasped him, holding him so tightly she thought she'd break. It was then that their eyes met and they both knew that they were thinking the same thing. It was all so fucked up, but god it was so good. He moaned her name long and low, almost unintelligibly and she knew that he was past the point of no return.

They couldn't stand it anymore- both of them hit their peaks, the pulsating shudders of his body sending her over the edge as his testicles contracted, sending jets of semen through his cock and pouring up against her cervix. She felt so wet and full, her whole body melted into her orgasm- it was like her entire body was contracting back and forth in pulsating bliss. Her womb felt like it was greedily sucking up every drop of cum, and god it felt amazing.

He shuddered, resting on her without crushing her, holding himself inside, trying to keep this fullness, this connection as long as he could. As if in answer, she brought her legs up and wrapped them around his torso as much as she could, angling up against him even more. She could feel him twitching inside of her still, his body working out the pathways of bliss in his nervous system.

He kissed her softly, wondering how all of this had escalated so quickly, wondering if she felt the same. She met his kiss with no resistance, her face was completely open and it was obvious that she was past the point of reason or coherent language. She was still pulsing gently around him, trying to squeeze out any extra drops of semen he had left.

"You crazy bitch," he said breathlessly, "Don't make me need you like this."

"Ahhhhhnnn...Eric," she finally managed to say his name and he hated how much her vulnerability made him want to protect her.

Her hand weakly rose up to touch his face and his heart melted when she looked at him with those faraway eyes.

"Don't make me sleep in the wet spot," she said, more like a whisper than anything.

What...DID SHE JUST SAY! The anger rose in him again. He pulled out of her and stomped over to the tissues at the head of his bed, throwing some at her so she could clean herself up too. He cleaned himself up, tossed the tissues in the trash and pulled a new pair of boxers on. Then he pulled back the bedsheets from the bed and in an exaggerated motion wrapped them over his own shoulder and turned to the wall. She was sitting at the foot of the bed now, sliding on her panties and shivering as she realized that it was actually pretty damn cold in the room in the absence of lust.

"You could...come under the covers if you want to," he said to the wall, trying not to sound like he needed her.

"Well, if you didn't keep your fucking room like an ice box, I wouldn't have to," she scoffed, finally recovering from the orgasmic afterglow.

He felt her slip in under the covers.

"Move over, fatass," she said softly and not at all like the Wendy he knew, snuggling into his back.

He turned to face her and brought her into his arms, "Whatever, ho," he said, trying not to look her in the eyes and blushing a little, as though his words could make her believe that he wasn't feeling horribly and sickeningly attached to her in a way that was utterly alien to him.

"You should know something," she said, finally, nuzzling into his neck, freaking him out at how comfortable, how _right_ it felt to him.

"Oh yeah? Well I think _you_ should know something too," he sniffed. She hated how infuriatingly _adorable_ he looked at that moment.

Their noses met and their eyes widened as both said it at the same time.

"I _**always**_ win."

**The End...?**

**I hope you "had yourself a time"! XD**

**()()()()()()()()()()()()()**

**Dear reader, thank you for reading my first ever piece of fan-fiction. **

**Please let me know what you thought of it or if you'd like me to continue the story!**

**Additionally, you can always send me a message or leave a comment about what you'd like me to do next in my wacky, crazy writing escapades.**


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